


Blue

by nialls_jellyban



Category: Original Work
Genre: Character Death, Fluff, Gen, Major Character Injury
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-21
Updated: 2014-05-21
Packaged: 2018-01-26 00:46:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1668575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nialls_jellyban/pseuds/nialls_jellyban
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>opal has had a hard life. a car crash took her sister, which was her only remaining living relative. worst of all it took her soft heart.... and her leg. a story of heartache rehab and learning to be free again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blue

1

“Jess!” I screamed as the white Toyota in front of us swerved uncontrollably. I watched as my sister struggled to regain control of the brakes, and her thoughts. My heart was beating faster than normal, and threatened to burst out of my chest. I tugged nervously at my turtle neck, feeling as though it was growing smaller and tighter slowly choking me. I looked at my sister who had beads of perspiration on her brow. This is bad, I thought. Jessica never sweats. She’s one of the most calm and collected people I know. The giant truck swerves again only this time in front of us, and I start to dial the police. I put the phone to my ear, and the operator says “nine- one- one what’s your emergen-“ She doesn’t even get to finish her sentence when the car in front of us hits the brakes.  
***  
Beep! Beep! Beep! My alarm clock creates a much- needed awakening to my nightmare. I sit up in bed and emit a loud sigh. I grab my prosthetic leg from my bedside table and attach it to the stump that was once my leg. It was devastating waking up on a hospital bed with no left leg, and I almost gave up. I was already unstable; why not just rid the world of one more teenager. In fact I have no idea why I didn’t die. Maybe it was by the grace of God, but then again, why would God take my leg? I unsteadily get up and bend the knee on the leg I do have, like the doctor told me to. I make my way over to the closet and pick out a red t-shirt with white lettering and some long sweatpants that are really baggy. It was either the wheelchair or the leg, and the leg decreased the pity party level. The crash left me with five broken ribs, an insurmountable cumulative of bruises, and a dislocated shoulder. Oh, and not to mention my leg is now wherever doctors store amputated limbs. On the bright side, I don’t have to run laps in P.E, or do jumping jacks for fear my leg will make me fall, or even worse, accidentally hit someone. I run a hand through my wavy, knotted black hair, and slowly walk down the stairs into the kitchen. As I approach the last step I smell eggs. I hate eggs, I always have. “Opal! Get your sorry butt down here!” God was really happy the day my life got screwed up wasn’t he? “I’m coming Aunt Delilah! I’m on the stairs!”  
“Then hurry up!”  
God, what did I do?  
I head through the door- less entry way to my guardian, who was contorting her face into what I knew as the morning special, and headed for the cupboard. I pulled out a box of cheerios and sat down. “You were so pretty. Not as pretty as your sister was before she died, but close! And what do you do now? Frown!” Aunt D retorts in my face, spit spraying all over my cheerios. Suddenly I’m not so hungry. I stand up and push my chair back in. “Oh, so now you want to be sensitive!” I keep walking down the hall, “Well then, go ahead and ignore me! I am the source of your very health! Without me you’ll die!” I turn back without even a feigned smile, “Wouldn’t you prefer that!” with that I storm out the door.  
***  
I briskly, if not unsteadily, walk out the door of my foster- mothers house. It’s a simply made house, the kind that looks like a three- dimensional rectangle with a pyramid on top. The exterior of the house is friendly enough, with yellow and white paint, along with rows of lavenders and dragon flowers. I remember the day the social security workers brought me here. It was last summer, right after they released me from the hospital. It was two people; a lady dressed in a scarlet pantsuit with bright red lipstick, and a heavy- set man who sported a dark grey pinstriped suit. I had instantly nick- named them Smiley (because she never smiled) and Giggles (because he was always letting out a hearty laugh). We rolled up in front of 9372 Munroe Drive on a scorching hot day in June. Aunt Delilah came out of the door with red stiletto heels, a tight yellow polka- dotted dress, and her fat (or as she would say jellies) flying everywhere. As she approached us, I actually thought I was at least going to be okay for a while. She thanked Smiley and Giggles, and then waved quickly as they pulled away. When we went inside she sat me down and started giving ground rules. We ended up with these:  
1\. Don’t question what Aunt Delilah tells you to do  
2\. No talking back  
3\. Don’t ask to borrow any of Aunt Delilah’s things  
4\. No going out of the house without permission  
5\. Don’t speak unless spoken to  
6\. Do not talk to Aunt Delilah’s guests  
7\. Dinner is at six - no later, no earlier  
8\. Do not go into the top pantry in the cupboard  
9\. Feed yourself breakfast  
10\. Make your own lunch  
She twisted my ear, “Got it?” I winced due to her long red faux fingernails piercing my ear. “Yes” I replied quickly. She let go of my ear.  
“Your room is up the stairs, third door to the left”  
“The stairs?” I asked unsure  
“Unless you want to sleep on the kitchen floor”  
That was the day that my life took off again. I thought I would be okay, and that’s exactly what I am. Because, everyone knows that good and okay aren’t the same.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm willing to add and reply to comments if you want more.


End file.
